Shepherd's Pie
by fictionalcandie
Summary: Sirius has a penchant for terrorizing the lower years and, unfortunately, he's quite good at it. [Oneshot. Part of a semiseries.]


**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter does not belong to me (and neither does Sirius Black, by extension). I'm just borrowing the characters.

**Author's Note:** Part Four in the semiseries "_The Life and Times of Sirius Black, In No Particular Order_" and a one-shot.

(If you're interested, Parts One, Two and Three can be found in my story list as 'Feather Brained', 'Click, or Boredom' and 'Potentially Late For Breakfast'.)

Review, if you'd be so kind. :D

_**o.o.o.o**_

"And that," finished Sirius in a hushed tone, leaning forward in his seat, "is the _real _reason they call it Shepherd's Pie." He had his best serious-so-you'd-better-believe-me face on.

The first years next to him at the Gryffindor table stared at him with wide eyes and slightly-open mouths. From his other side, he heard a badly muffled snort, but pretended he hadn't.

"Really," Sirius insisted, to the enthralled first years. The boldest of the lot -- who was afflicted with flaming fire-engine red hair but not the name of Weasley -- endeavored to look skeptical. He only managed horrified. The girl beside him, blond pigtails swishing, looked between him and Sirius, and squeaked noncommittally.

Absurdly pleased with this reaction, the black-haired fifth year prepared to go into the second, even more terrifying stage of his explanation. He opened his mouth, and a pair of hands grabbed the back of his robes, pulling him roughly from his seat.

"Hey!"

"You're scaring the poor things, Padfoot," his unseen captor hissed almost reprovingly.

Sirius grunted; that had been the point. "Moony's fixing them," he muttered, quite sullenly. For indeed, Remus had immediately slipped into Sirius's vacated seat and was loudly and firmly reassuring the first years that they were not, ever, to believe a word Sirius Black said to them. Especially not about _food_.

As he pulled Sirius from the Great Hall, the other boy began lecturing sternly, "First years are off-limits when it comes to inducing food phobias, Padfoot, you know that."

Sirius grunted, again; he'd never liked that rule.

"And after what you did with the _potatoes_, Padfoot..." continued the other.

"I only did that once!" Sirius objected loudly, finally shrugging off the other boy's hands and turning around. James, for that was the identity of his 'captor', was unaffected by his glare. "And it was three years ago!"

"Well, everyone's still talking about it."

"Only because I haven't done anything more interesting since then!" snapped Sirius, plodding a little away. "Because _you _won't let me! You... food Nazi!"

James merely watched him, looking amused. "Food Nazi, Padfoot?"

"Yes," Sirius insisted petulantly.

"I'd hardly call myself a _food Nazi_..."

"Well, you are. And you're a fun Nazi, too." Here Sirius stomped his foot, warming to the subject. "You never let me do anything!"

"Now I think you're just confusing me with Moony..."

"No, really, you never let me do _anything_." Sirius waved both arms in a very expressive, if not coherent, display of fantastic agitation. "Like that time I wanted to... you know... with the Muggle sparklers, and you--"

"That was because there was a _Professor_, Padfoot. It would have been just _stupid_," interjected James, still amused.

Sirius grunted; that wasn't the _point_.

Seeing Sirius's still stormy face, James quickly added. "And don't you dare bring up the toilets, either!" Sirius opened and closed his mouth, then narrowed his eyes and grunted.

"Or what you wanted to do with the owls and the house paint," continued James.

"But--"

The doors to the Great Hall opened slightly and Remus slipped out, looking disapproving. "I can't believe you did that, Padfoot," he said immediately.

"I can," supplied James, trying to look less amused, for Remus's sake. Sirius made a disgusted noise. James rolled his eyes, "Yes, Sirius?"

"Fun Nazis!" shrieked Sirius indignantly.

Remus blinked and stared at him. "... James?"

"Don't look at me," deferred the bespectacled boy. "You're the prefect."

"Yes, but--" Remus was quite confused. "Why is he--"

"Fun Nazis!"

James shrugged, as Sirius stormed down the corridor and out of sight.

Exasperated, Remus sighed. "Can't _you _control him, James? At least enough to get him to let the first years eat their dinner in peace."

"What do you want _me_ to do?" queried James innocently.

"Go bribe him with... muffins, or something." James raised his eyebrows. Remus amended, "Look, just stop him before he runs into Peeves again, okay?"

James winced; he remembered the _last _time Sirius had encountered the poltergeist while in a ridiculous mood. A bit of fun was all well and good but... he wasn't really sure any of the other students would come out completely sane. "Right."

Remus opened the doors and slipped back into the Great Hall, missing James's next comment.

"He likes strudel better, anyway."


End file.
